


right and wrong (wicked hot)

by words-writ-in-starlight (Gunmetal_Crown)



Series: a softer animorphs [3]
Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Drunk Sex, F/M, Happy AU, No War AU, Semi-Public Sex, Table Sex, Underage Drinking, Wall Sex, but not underage sex!, everyone is a consenting legal adult, no really it's happy I promise, or well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-05 05:12:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10298294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gunmetal_Crown/pseuds/words-writ-in-starlight
Summary: If loud, weird public sex is wrong, then being wrong is wicked hot.  (Right and wrong are just guideline to hotter sex)In which there is neither a war nor any such thing as aliens, and six kids meet in college.  Chaos ensues.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThoseWhoFavorFire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThoseWhoFavorFire/gifts).



> My dear roommate [ThoseWhoFavorFire](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ThoseWhoFavorFire) recently started reading Animorphs and she wanted to know if there was at least happy fic. Um...there is not. So she extracted an agreement to write her two different AUs which are 100% happiness or at least 0% sadness. So here we are. This is one of them. I just got turned down for a writing workshop, so I figured I'd post something and watch a B-movie to make myself feel better. Oh, and this will be a very, VERY slow-updating fic, but there will be more to it.
> 
> Also, for soundtracks, I recommend [LA Devotee](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r5dNcKTcnPA) and [Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H5NqIsnyTG8) by Panic! at the Disco, and [How To Be A Heartbreaker](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vKNcuTWzTVw) by Marina and the Diamonds. The title is from that last song.

So Rachel was at a party, drinking and turning down her fifth come-on of the night and complaining to Cassie about being roomed with her over-responsible cousin, his lunatic best friend, and two total strangers this year.

Well, back up.  Rachel was at college.  She and Jake went together, because they’d been applying for colleges just as Tom was getting out of a very bizarre cult that had sort of consumed his life for the better part of four years.  It wasn’t because Jake had to keep an eye on her, no matter what they told anyone who asked, even if her history buff cousin _was_ currently considered the stable one in the family.  (Her parents had never quite gotten over the whiplash when Rachel stopped doing gymnastics and took up krav maga and jiu jitsu.  She thought they might never recover from the shock if she admitted it had been Jake’s suggestion.) It was just because they mutually needed to get out of the blast zone while Tom sorted his shit out, and it sort of worked out that way.  Over the course of freshman year, their duo expanded to a quartet—Jake picked up a best friend, Marco, who Rachel put up with because Jake liked him, and she had claimed Cassie, the only freshman on campus who had a major and a grad school all worked out, as her own. 

And it had all been _fine_ , is the point.  Rachel’s first roommate, Taylor, had been…a trip, but for most of the year she roomed with Melissa, who was a sweetheart, if a little timid.  Jake had sorted it out so that he had a single, through a minor miracle, and tolerantly turned down the frats who were determined to recruit him.  Rachel had fewer issues—the first time a girl got pushy about joining a sorority, Rachel had a very brief, very polite conversation that resolved the entire situation.  They were set up for a smooth college career, with no more than the usual underage drinking and good living situations and decent social standing.

And then over the summer the college realized they didn’t have enough housing for their newly-recruited students and panicked. 

Which was how Rachel, Jake, Marco, Cassie, and two people whose names Rachel didn’t even know were all going to be living together in one of the houses usually reserved for seniors.

Fuck.

Rachel sullenly finished her tequila shot and bit into her lime slice with more violence than strictly necessary, grimacing as her throat burned. 

“I don’t like living with strangers,” she complained.  “Look how Taylor turned out!”

“Yeah, I know, Rach,” Cassie said, sympathetic, and took a sip of her own whiskey.  It was to their tremendous benefit that Jake knew the frat throwing the party, who had an exceptional liquor selection and believed that any friend of Jake’s was welcome to it.  Smirking a little, Cassie added, “Besides, you’re just worried that in a house of six you won’t be able to invite the guy from your Shakespeare class over.  For tutoring.”

“Hey, I did great in that class, requirements are my bitch,” Rachel said, brushing her hair back.  “But he was definitely the highlight of that class,” she admitted, and tried not to blush—there was a certain level of pathetic in spending an entire semester staring at the one person in her class who _never spoke_.

“We’ve heard,” Jake said, appearing out of the crowd at the door.  “Constantly.”

“Oh yeah, like you and Cassie aren’t all hand-holding and doe eyes,” Rachel snapped, feeling a blush crawl up her throat.  “You don’t get to serve me that particular meal, Jake—although you _do_ get to serve me another shot.”

“Jake, my man, why are we in the kitchen?” Marco asked, bouncing into the room and slinging one arm over Jake’s shoulder.  Jake didn’t budge, even though a significant portion of Marco’s weight had to be hanging off him, and Marco raised his cup to Rachel and Cassie in a toast.  “Ladies.”

“What are you drinking?” Rachel asked, frowning at the deep orange-pink contents.

“Sex on the Beach,” Marco said with a wink and a sly swing of his hips.  Rachel arched an eyebrow at him and he relented.  “Or some frat guy’s best approximation.  It’s pretty good, you want some?”

“I prefer real alcohol, but you enjoy that.”

“Cassie,” Jake said, shrugging Marco off with ease.  “Remember that thing we discussed?”

“It had better be going out and dancing,” Rachel muttered, taking another piece of lime and sprinkling salt on her hand.

“Grinding like civilized people,” Marco confirmed.

“Oh my God, both of you are going to hell,” Cassie said as Jake turned brick red.

“Here here,” Rachel and Marco chorused, raising a red Solo cup and a fresh tequila shot in acknowledgement.  The second shot burned worse than the first, and Rachel hissed out a breath once she’d swallowed the lime.

Cassie shook her head at them both, swallowed some whiskey, and said, “Almost ready?”

“Yeah,” Jake confirmed, and Cassie smiled.

“Here, Rachel,” she said, swapping Rachel’s empty glass out for a full one.  Rachel silently looked at her best friend, attempting to convey _what the hell_ as best she could without opening her mouth.  “Liquid courage,” Cassie said with a mysterious smile, walking over to Jake’s side.  Rachel considered questioning her further, but sighed and did the shot instead.  Lime still in her teeth, she made a sarcastic _after you_ gesture and trailed the three of them out into the living room of the frat.

“You touch me, you lose that hand at the wrist,” she snapped to a freshman, and he paled.

“Come on, Rachel,” Cassie said, catching her hands.  “Dance with me.”

Rachel let herself smile, then, feeling the warm rush of the tequila beginning to hit her bloodstream, and whirled into the crowd.  Dancing was fun—dancing was _good_ , she decided at once, feeling the hot press of bodies and the pounding beat bear her up like a tide.  The tequila buzzed through her veins and the dancing flooded her senses, and even though she probably hadn’t had enough to be properly drunk—she and Jake had been surprised to discover that, apparently, their family had remarkably high tolerances to alcohol—she could feel the confidence of the alcohol easing through her bones.

“Hey, Rachel,” Cassie called over the music, pulling away from Jake to lean close enough to Rachel to be able to talk.  “Look!”  She pointed over Rachel’s shoulder, toward the door, well over the height Cassie should have been able to see.  Rachel stretched up, peering toward the door at the two boys who had just walked in.  One, with curly dark hair and middling-dark skin, was almost uncannily pretty, tall and lanky and bright-eyed.  His friend, who looked mildly appalled by the crowded room, was only slightly shorter, about Rachel’s height, with rumpled blond hair and amber skin.  His serious dark eyes were wide—and familiar.  The unmistakable bubble of a reckless decision about to be made swelled in Rachel’s chest as the blond boy swept a look of alarm across the room, clearly searching for someone he knew.  Cassie leaned in again and started to say, “Jake invited our new roo--”

“Dibs!” Rachel interrupted at a shout, tossing a hand up into the air to general applause, and both boys looked to her, startled.

“What?” Cassie asked.

“You heard me,” Rachel said, baring her teeth in a fierce smile and tossing her head.  “Dibs.  On the blond one.”

“Wha—no, Rachel, those are the two guys who are going to be--”

“Shh,” Rachel said, brushing past Cassie to duck back into the kitchen and emerge with a pair of tequila shots in one hand and a salt shaker and two lime slices in the other.  “I’m busy,” she added as she passed Cassie again, and as she left, she saw her best friend throw her hands into the air helplessly.

The blond guy had retreated promptly to the side of the room, close to the door leading to a library-like room that was officially speaking off limits, and was eyeing the party like he was questioning every life choice he’d made leading him to this point.  His friend had disappeared in the direction of the food, and there appeared to be a small furor happening in that direction that had already drawn Jake’s presence, but the blond seemed determined to ignore it.  He’d already blinked in blank incomprehension at two girls who had tried to pull him into the pulsing crowd of dancers, and hey, Rachel loved a challenge.

“Hey,” she said, sliding into his field of vision with a sly smile.  He was about her height at close quarters, and shock flitted onto his face as he looked at her—eyes first, then a quick glance down at the legs on pointed display beneath her skirt, then back up at her eyes, red touching his cheeks.  It was adorable.  “I’m Rachel,” she said.  “We had Shakespeare together last semester.”

“Uh, yeah,” he said, blushing deeper.  His voice wasn’t what she’d expected, a little deeper, warmer, although about as shy as he acted.  “I know.  I’m Tobias.”

“Nice to meet you,” Rachel said, and grinned at him.  She flicked her hair over her shoulder and offered him the hand with the shots in it.  “Do a shot with me?”

“All right?” Tobias said, visibly bemused, but took the shot out of her hand and cocked his head.

“Like this,” she said, handing him a slice of lime.  She brought her hand to her lips and licked a stripe up the skin between her first finger and thumb, watching Tobias through her eyelashes as she did.  “Salt,” she said, pouring salt on the glistening line and setting the shaker down on the table.  “And then the tequila, and the lime,” she continued.  She shot him a wicked glance.  “It’s better if you do it all real fast.”

“I believe you,” Tobias said dryly, and followed her example, although a little more hesitantly than she had.  Rachel took the opportunity to notice that he had very nice lips.

“Now,” she said once he’d sprinkled salt on his hand.  “Cheers.  To the new year, yeah?”

“To the new year,” Tobias said, flashing her an outright grin with an edge of wicked humor.  It made his dark eyes glint, turned his quiet good looks into something rakish, something that left her breathless and made warmth sweep up her cheeks and throat.  Rachel decided that she wanted to see it again.  “And all the chaos we’ll inevitably see.”

Rachel laughed, raising her shot to him in a salute, and licked the salt from her hand, then tossed her shot back and bit into her lime all in one motion.  Tobias did the same, and she could see the grimace he pulled behind the lime in his teeth.

“That’s godawful,” he said, swallowing again once he’d spit out the lime.  He sounded amused, rather than offended the way Jake had when she’d talked him into trying the same thing, and he was grinning at her again.  Rachel tore the flesh out of her lime slice and swallowed it, and smirked back as she set the rind in her glass.

“I know, right?”  She laughed, shaking her head, and held out her hand.  “Dance with me.”

“I don’t know how to dance,” he said immediately, as if he’d already used the line and had it ready.

“It’s not rocket science, even my dumbass cousin can do it,” Rachel said, catching his hand.  He looked taken aback, glancing down at her arm and where her fingers gripped his as if expecting a trick.  “Come on.”

“I…think I’d need another shot first.”

“That can be arranged,” Rachel announced, smug.  “I’ll teach you how to do a body shot.”

Given the look Cassie shot her as Rachel flicked her hair back and bared the skin of her collarbone, she should probably feel guilty for her usual zero-to-sixty method of flirting.  Maybe if she’d had less alcohol, or if she’d spent less time lusting after Tobias’ deft hands and lean build, or if he seemed less wholly willing to be caught up in her wake, Rachel would consider it.  As it was, she carefully held a lime between her teeth and tried not to shiver as his tongue swept over the line of salt clinging to her skin, and wound her fingers in the soft hair at the nape of his neck as he took the lime from between her lips.

When he leaned back, the amber-brown of his eyes was almost wholly eclipsed by black pupil in the light of the kitchen, and Rachel grinned at him again, slow and wicked. 

“So,” he said once he’d taken the lime from his mouth and swallowed.  “You said something about dancing?”

Rachel grinned, feral, and dragged him out into the crowd.

If dancing alone had been good, dancing with Tobias was _fantastic_.  His hands—god, Rachel had spent an entire semester falling in love with his hands—slid down her sides and left fire in their wake, settling at her hips, light and almost tentative.  She looked up at him over her shoulder, her back to his chest, and hooked her hand back over his neck.  So close, she could feel the heat from his skin, feel every hitch in his breath when she pressed back against him.  The alcohol was vibrating through her chest, flushing her cheeks and making it seem like an excellent idea to slide their hips together and tip her face back up to him.  Tobias looked back down at her, an indefinable expression on his face.

“Is this a trick?” he asked, leaning close so that he could speak under the thudding base of the music.

“No,” Rachel said, smirking. 

“How about a dream?”  This time it was half a laugh, one that stuttered off into a gasp as she linked her fingers with his and carefully tightened his grip.

“You dream about me?” she asked, winking.

“Um,” he said, sounding dazed.  “Gorgeous blonde in my class, smart, mouthy.  Yes.  Who wouldn’t?”

Rachel turned in his grip, until they were pressed together chest to knee and her arms were draped lazily over his shoulders.  “Good,” she said.  “Because I’ve wanted to dance with the quiet artist kid all year.”  He arched his eyebrows at her.  “It’s the hands,” she said, mock-wise, and he laughed again, fuller this time.  “So come on, Tobias.”  She lingered over his name and smirked again.  “Dance with me.”

“Sure,” he said.  “Whatever you want.”

“Now that,” Rachel mused as a new song started, “is what I like to hear.”

Dancing was a blur, warm and brightly colored and full of amber eyes as she moved to the beat with Tobias at her back.  Whenever the music was quiet enough, he ducked his head down to murmur in her ear, to make cracks about the clothes of the people passing them or tell her bits of gossip he’d gleaned from the art building.  It was…really fun, Rachel realized in surprise.  She’d picked guys up at parties before, but Tobias was wry and funny, even as the alcohol kicked in, and when his hands wandered up her sides or down to her thigh, it was only after she had moved them there herself.

Obviously she had to kiss him.

Rachel twisted in Tobias’ grip and laced both hands behind his neck.  “I’m gonna kiss you now,” she informed him bluntly, and he started to smile, the trace of a laugh on his tongue before she caught it.

Tobias tasted sharp and a little sour-sweet, still tequila and lime, and once he got over the initial surprise—she’d _warned_ him—he kissed her back enthusiastically, hands strong and firm at her back.  Rachel tipped her head, parted her lips, deepened the kiss.  Heat thundered just under her skin, the trace of his hand along her spine sending bright sparks out from her core.  The slick slide of lips and tongue was addictive, and so was the shuddering gasp she tore from him when she tugged at his hair.  Rachel was still wondering if she could get the same response again when Tobias’ lips left hers and found her jaw instead, a trace of teeth against her skin, and she was the one gasping.

“Oh-kay,” Rachel breathed when he had retreated, a smug little smile on her face that sent another shower of sparks through her blood.  “I was gonna ask if you wanted to go back to my place—or yours, I guess?”

He shook his head.  “I got caught up in the housing shuffle.  Haven’t moved in yet.”

“Yeah, that,” she said, hoping that she sounded like she’d processed what he said.  “But, listen, I know the brothers--”

“You know the brothers?” Tobias asked, arching his eyebrows at her.

“Well, my cousin knows them and they think he’s great,” Rachel said, waving a hand dismissively.  Tobias’ hands were still tracing up and down her spine, sending heat crackling through her skin, and it was _seriously impairing_ her critical thinking processes.  “The _point_ is that the library is officially off limits, but I know where the back door is.”

Tobias hesitated for a moment, then laughed and shook his head.  “What the hell.  I was going to say I don’t usually do that, but I don’t usually do drinking and dancing either.”

“It’s good for you,” she said solemnly, and kissed him again, slow and deep and breathless.  She thought she heard Jake say something in his best exasperated voice, but honestly to hell with him.  She was busy.  He could be busy too if he and Cassie got their shit a little more together.

Parting, she and Tobias grinned at each other for a moment before she linked her fingers back through his and towed him toward the hall.  Passing a basket of condoms—helpfully provided by the brothers—Rachel grabbed one and palmed it before taking a couple of turns and ending up at a plain wooden door.  She pressed Tobias against it and kissed him, pressing against him shamelessly and relishing the feel of his shoulders under her hands, his hands at her back, his hips hard against hers, among other things.

“Door, Rachel,” he murmured against her throat as she tipped her head back and let him nip at the soft skin there.  She muttered something indistinct and curse-filled, but fumbled for the doorknob and sent them both spilling into the library.

Tobias cocked his head and looked toward the far wall with its door, clearly listening to the loud beat of the music.  “That sounds like…”

“The party’s right through that door,” Rachel said.  “That one’s locked, but the walls are pretty thin.”

Tobias shook his head.  “You are a crazy woman.”

“But you’re here anyway,” she pointed out, kicking the door shut behind her and prowling toward him.

He caught her and spun them both, so that, this time, it was Rachel pinned against a long side table against the wall.  She hopped up on it and tugged him forward, ignoring the way her skirt hitched up around her thighs as he stepped between them.  “I didn’t say anything about me.  I’m weird, ask anyone.”

Rachel shrugged and pulled his lips to hers without another word.

“God,” Tobias said on a shaky breath when she moved down his jaw to his throat.  His skin was dark amber, the legacy of sun on some shade darker than Rachel’s pale, and it flushed beautiful red when she put her teeth against the tendons.  The hands at her hips tightened convulsively and she grinned, laving her tongue over the mark once before moving down to his fine sharp collarbone where it showed through the collar of his t-shirt.  Tobias’ hands moved up from her hips to the skin under her shirt, and she hummed approvingly against his skin.

“You have no idea how much time I spent thinking about this,” Rachel said, raising her head with a laugh, shaking her hair back, and laced her fingers into his wild hair.

“Still pretty sure this is a dream,” Tobias said, ducking his head down to press lips and teeth to the place just under her jaw that had made her shudder before.  She clung to his hair, legs tight around his hips, and tipped her head back to give him better access.  A sound almost like a moan strangled on her tongue as he worked his way down her throat, across her shoulder, to the smooth skin of her chest revealed by her shirt.  His hands were broad and firm on her back, bending her into a smooth curve.  Rachel didn’t think he was working from a vast well of experience so much as he was just extremely observant, paying close attention to the places that made her gasp in a breath, the way that teeth made her grip on him tighten, the sharp cry—unsuccessfully muffled—when he pressed his hips forward.  He hushed her, half-laughing.

“Oh, go to hell,” Rachel said, grinning herself, and leaning back until her shoulders hit the wall at the back of the shallow table.  Tobias made a sound almost like a groan as her legs closed around his hips, tugging him close enough to bend down and press biting kisses across the skin of her chest.  “The music’s too loud for them to hear us anyway.”

“Did you have a plan for— _Jesus_ ,” he swore, muffling the word in the curve of her neck as a deft hand slipped under his shirt, finding the button on his jeans and sliding two fingers beneath.  His skin was warm, smooth and flushed, and Rachel snickered in triumph.  Tobias slid his hands up her thighs in revenge, until her skirt was bunched around his wrists and his thumbs could inscribe tantalizing arcs at the soft skin inside. 

Rachel was reluctant to let him go, to loosen her grip and lose the solid press of him against her, but she did, and his fingers slid higher.  He paused, thumb tracing a gentle line at the crease of her thigh, and looked at her, head cocked and dark eyes serious.

“Yes?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Rachel said emphatically.  Tobias smiled at her, almost shy again.  And she _had_ to drag him down into a kiss, then, lifting her hips to shed her underwear and tangling her fingers into his hair as his fingers slid up higher.  Tobias still had that air of near-obsessive observation, pressing lingering kisses to her throat and jaw and watching for the faintest twitch as his fingers explored her slick folds, noting the way she gasped as he circled her clit and the clutch of her nails when he slid a finger inside.  His focus was…novel.  It wasn’t that Rachel was in the habit of having bad sex—it was just that she was used to having sex with college guys.  Her limited sex life had revealed to her the absolute truth that college guys who thought they knew what they were doing most _certainly_ did not.  This…was something else, being the object of so much concentration.  Tobias’ methodical touch, mixing with the golden thickness of the alcohol, sent coiling waves of sensation crashing through her, and it was _good_.

And then Tobias curled two fingers forward inside her, pressed a thumb down on her clit, and Rachel _shouted_ in surprise, hips jolting up into his hand as sparks rained down her spine and scalding hunger shivered through her nerves.

“Fuck,” she panted, dragging his lips back to hers with her fingers still tight in her hair, and when she kissed him, she could feel the smug grin on his lips.  Rachel’s fingers fumbled this time, tugging at Tobias’ jeans until the button popped and the zipper slid down, and she reached inside to close her hand around his cock.  He was hard, feverishly hot against her skin, and he muffled a moan in her shoulder as she pushed down the offending fabric of his jeans enough to roll the stolen condom onto him.

“You’re so…”  Tobias trailed off, shaking his head as she pulled him close.

“So what?” she breathed, feeling his breath stutter under her hands as the head of his cock brushed against her. 

“So much,” he said, and Rachel felt something unfamiliar and warm flush under her skin, and dismissed it almost at once.  Closing her eyes, she tipped her head back and relished the push, the stretch, as he pressed forward.  Tobias’ breath shook against the skin of her jaw, and when she gave an aborted rock of her hips, tugging at his hair, he made a low, punched-out sound deep in his throat.  His hips gave a shallow jerk, sending a sweet burn up Rachel’s spine.

“ _Yes_ ,” Rachel hissed, and Tobias groaned, his head tipping back, eyes closed.  Rachel pressed her lips to the strong line of the tendon curving up his throat, applied teeth and tongue to the hollow behind his jaw until the skin went from red to purple.  A groan shivered through Tobias’ chest as she pulled with her legs, and she laughed against the salt of his skin when he withdrew, thrust forward. 

She set the rhythm, fast and shuddering, making the long side table rattle as she gripped his shoulders and his hands left bright aches on her hips—she hoped, through the thick haze, that they would bruise.  He murmured words into her neck like they would leave tattoos, visible marks of his praise: _beautiful, strong, incredible._   Rachel heard compliments all the time, but his voice carried something more, something powerful, in the cracks between syllables.  Tobias slid a hand down from her hip, found her clit again, and she gasped, cried out unmuffled as her fingers clawed down his shoulders.  A liquid weight trickled down her bones to coil as feverish heat beneath her skin, making her breathless, helpless to do anything but toss her head back and cling as it built.  Every pass of his finger, every thrust—focused, so focused on _her_ —dragged a sound, more than a moan but not by much, out of her throat, the whole world flushed and close and tequila-gold.

It took Rachel by surprise, when she came, a burst of white light behind her eyelids and a choked cry that couldn’t pass the unfurling tension in her chest and throat.  She felt Tobias shudder against her not moments later, dimly aware of her nails biting into his skin below the sleeves of his t-shirt, deep enough to mark.  But mostly she was aware of the riptide shuddering through her bones and the heat of skin on skin and the feeling of Tobias’ heart, hammering against his ribs and echoing through her chest.

She remembered only flashes after that, dizzy and warm with the glow of orgasm.  Kissing Tobias, laughing with him as they righted their clothes.  Dropping a lazy wink to a handsome blond guy (his name was something alliterative—JJ?  TT?  Who cared?  Not Rachel) who was _clearly_ aware of what had been happening in the library.  Tobias being swept up by his tall friend.  Scrawling her cell number on the back of his hand in pen, with a remark about doing it again sometime.  Exchanging _some_ words with Cassie and Jake (Holding hands! Progress!) to ensure that she wasn’t presumed missing. 

She didn’t remember taking the campus shuttle back to their new shared house, but she did remember stripping out of everything she was wearing in favor of an overlarge shirt and collapsing, makeup barely stripped from her face, in bed.

* * *

Her door slammed open to admit both Cassie and Cassie’s heartlessness far too early.  The brisk way Cassie yanked open the curtains to let light spill onto Rachel’s face—God Almighty, she had chosen an east-facing room to make school days earlier but this was _hell_ —was a personal affront, and Rachel grabbed the closest object and threw it blindly at Cassie’s shadowed figure.

“Very intimidating,” Cassie said mercilessly as she dodged the book.  There was a quiet _chink_ , and Rachel scowled, but took the offering of Advil and water without protest.  “Come and meet our new roommates.  They’re here to unpack.”

“You’re evil,” Rachel said politely, swallowing the rest of the water.  Cassie gave her a grin.

“Bad hangover?”

Rachel paused, blinking in the bright sun.  “Not as bad as I’d expected, actually,” she admitted, and it was true.  She had a headache, but it wasn’t splitting, and she wasn’t nauseated.  “I’m just _really_ not a morning person.”

“That sucks,” Cassie said, dry.  “Come on.  Not all of us look perfect just out of bed, so the least you can do is make it snappy and come _meet the others_.”

Rachel paused halfway through pulling on a pair of pajama pants to narrow her eyes at Cassie.  “What are you scheming?”

“Me?  Scheming?  Never,” Cassie said immediately.  Rachel settled the soft black pants at her hips and swept her hair up into a ponytail without deigning to reply, and Cassie didn’t bother to pretend not to give a pointed look at Rachel’s collarbone.  “Come on,” she repeated once Rachel swept a hand down herself as if to say _satisfied?_

The new arrivals, the last pair to finish out the six occupants of the house, had been waylaid by the boys at the door, and Rachel knew this for certain because Marco—who got _hideous_ hangovers but somehow always powered through—had probably never heard the words ‘inside voice’ in his entire life.

“—you _fucking joking_ , what do you mean you’re already in a 400 level CompSci class, _Jesucristo_ , I give up, I’m dropping out,” Marco was saying as Rachel and Cassie descended the stairs.

“Your mom would never forgive you,” Jake said, the tolerant amusement almost palpable.  Jake, unlike Marco, didn’t need to raise his voice to be audible—Jake’s voice carried.  Rachel’s mother called it _presence_ and tried to talk him into a law degree.

“My mom loves me, because I— _news flash—_ am lovable.”

“Yeah, and Eva strikes fear into the hearts of men, women, and everything in between,” Rachel said as they rounded the last corner to the entryway.

“Ah, Xena, you grace us with your _annoyingly faultless_ presence,” Marco said, squinting at her through his sunglasses.  He had a mug of coffee in one hand, so strong that Rachel could feel herself getting wired off the fumes.

“Hey, cousin,” Jake said with an easy grin, because of course he and Cassie were the textbook responsible drinkers and therefore perpetually hangover-free.  At least he had the common decency not to report back to Rachel’s parents, and only told them about how Rachel made sure he didn’t forget there was a wider world outside the library and the gym.  “Have you met our new roommates?”

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” Rachel said, looking at the pair of figures blocking the sunlight from blinding her properly.

“Well, this is Axima—Axim—he said we could call him Ax, which I intend to continue doing even when I have full control of my body again,” Marco said, gesturing to the taller of the two.  Something sank in Rachel’s stomach as she glanced over a remarkably familiar figure, wild curls and bronze skin and intelligent eyes, before sliding to the one beside him.

They evaluated each other for a moment, his eyes catching on the pearl-string of faint red marks, not quite bruises, framing her collarbone, as hers did on the purple bruise in the shape of a mouth at the tendon of his neck.  His lips quirked up into the same self-deprecating smile as last night, and Cassie said, voice very even, “And I think you’ve already met Tobias.”

**Author's Note:**

> Quick show of hands: who thought I just made up a ridiculous scenario to get them all living together?
> 
> HA, y'all are wrong, my school pulled this exact shit two years in a row.
> 
> Anyway. *throws smut into the crowd* I promise the next prompt lends itself a little more to, you know, actual canon emotions.


End file.
